The Lone Commander
by Falward
Summary: Different short stories of different length futuring Deogreh, the hero of Ferelden, with stories from both the past - before he became Warden Commander and afterwards.


The silence spread throughout the hallways of the keep only to be interrupted by the sound of metal hitting the stone floor repeatedly. The sound came from a heavy armored elf with a serious expression across his otherwise beautiful face. Deogreh went through the corridors in a hasty pace scrambling between the pieces of parchment he had been given only a few hours earlier. A group of adventurers had ventured into the Deep Roads in search for treasures, and managed to get further into the Primeval Thaig than anybody had dared travel before, not even the Gray Wardens. The Warden Commander stopped in front of a massive wooden door bearing a crest with a griffon. The guard next to the door saluted him as he passed. The furrows under the guard's eyes told Deogreh that he had been close as dozing off if he had not heard someone coming. "Don't let anyone enter – I need to be alone for the moment." the commander mumbled as he went into the room beyond the hallway.

As the Deogreh entered, he went directly towards the desk near one of the ends of the room before sitting down exhaling an exhausted sigh. He started to strap off some of his armor without letting his eyes leave the papers. If that was true what was written, it would mean that not only were the blight beaten further back than he could have hoped, but he would finally be able to rest for a bit. Ever since the end of the fifth blight he had searched for a moments rest and peace. His eyes drifted towards the ceiling as he leaned further back in the chair. He had wished to leave Ferelden for a time together with Leliana, but it had seemed like the Maker had made other plans for him. He had not spoken with her in almost three years, and the only conversations they had were through the few letters they had been able to send to one another.

He often missed the old times where his only goal had been to survive and seek assistance to overcome the Blight, even though that had been a nightmare as well. He missed the slow evenings where he had been on guard duty together with Leliana and they had told stories from their past. He had mostly listened as she had told him about Orlais and how different it was from Ferelden. She had smiled in a way he knew he would never be able to make her smile like when she had spoken about the country, even if she had been driven away from it and had called Ferelden her true home. Now that she had returned to Orlais, and with such an important role by the Devine's side, he felt as if the connection between them slowly faded away. Maybe once everything someday settled down, he would be able to visit her. He looked down at the parchments again, slowly returning to reality. Now he had become the _Warden Commander_ of all things, something he had not wanted to become in the first place. But everyone seemed to have appointed him for the role without asking him beforehand, even queen Anora had asked him only a few days after the archdemon's defeat.

He now stood as the leader of the Ferelden Gray Wardens four years after leaving the alienage in Denerim, and not only that, he was also left here without most of his old companions. Alistar had sacrificed himself to kill the archdemon, that night he would never be able to forget. Alistar, saying that he wanted to do his part as well, leaving Deogreh speechless as he drew his sword into the archdemon's head. There was not a single day where he did not miss that human's sarcastic and always cheerful remarks. He could really use him when the diplomats from the other Gray Warden fortresses arrived in Vigil's Keep to seek an audience with the renowned "Hero of Ferelden", a title that was used more often than his own name. He did not even feel like a hero, as he had not been the one who did the final sacrifice. The titles should not have belonged to him, even though Leliana had reassured him that his charisma was what had made people follow him; not just his deeds. He covered his face with both of his hands, as he sighed once more. Dwelling in the past helped no one, the least of all himself. He ran a hand through his silver-like hair before turning towards the papers again, trying to focus. He would have to send a group out to investigate. The commander looked towards the door, wondering if he should send a guardsman to fetch Nathaniel for him, or if the matter could wait till the next morning. He shook his head slowly; they all needed a night's rest before venturing into the unknown.


End file.
